


Repeated Mistakes Aren't Mistakes

by kebabeater1



Series: Songs of Ice and Fire [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, actually there's some angst and plot, but plenty of porn, why did I write this lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kebabeater1/pseuds/kebabeater1
Summary: Is it really a mistake if you keep doing it on purpose?The first time can always be discounted as a mistake. A one-time slip-up is a flight of fancy. Alternatively, it can be called a poor decision, or a lapse in judgment.Those excuses are less powerful the second time. They are useless the third and after.Azula and Sokka struggle with their desires after the war is over.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar) (background/mentioned), Azula/Sokka (Avatar), Sokka/Yue (mentioned/past), Suki/Zuko (Avatar) (background/mentioned)
Series: Songs of Ice and Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171442
Comments: 13
Kudos: 110





	Repeated Mistakes Aren't Mistakes

The first time they fuck, it's out of sheer frustration.

They've been glaring daggers at each other across the table. It is not the first time this week, nor the second, nor even the third... and it's only Monday. Zuko looks nonplussed. Azula wants to burn him to a crisp. And Sokka... Sokka isn't sure what he wants. Something very negative and to do with Azula, he's sure.

"Settle down, you two. There has to be some kind of solution that we can come up with."

"I've already told you what it is," Azula hisses. "It's the only one that will achieve your goals, Zuzu."

"And mine is the only one that'll do it without making you look like a Sozin retread," Sokka answers angrily. He jabs a finger with accusatory passion at Azula. "Her idea is just ten levels of bad."

"And ten levels of magnitude better than yours," she retorts. Sokka can see the lightning flash in her eyes.

"Enough!" Zuko roars. "Out, both of you. I need time to think."

They leave fuming, yet they still leave together. Zuko watches them go with a glare.

In the hallways of the Fire Nation Palace, their argument resumes, as soon as they're out of range of Zuko.

"You're a fucking moron," Azula says, pushing Sokka against the pillar. Sokka isn't trying to brace himself, but even so, he's always stunned by how strong this little woman is. One fingernail pokes into his chest - not hard enough to draw blood. It tingles more than hurts.

"And you haven't changed," he retorts. "You're still advocating for the deadliest solution. You're going to spark instability in the Earth Kingdom."

"It's not my fault if Kuei can't hold his country together," she replies angrily. "We cut back on our exports of oils and machinery and they have to reduce their export tariffs on food. If they want to starve us, we can make sure they don't have the means to feed themselves either."

Sokka pushes back against her. "So, what, we're just going to push them and they'll push us until we have another war because the price of grain was ten fucking coppers too high?" He cannot believe the nerve of her. Not every international issue needs to erupt into a cold war.

Their faces are inches away from each other, and suddenly Sokka is distracted by her ruby red lipstick. He hauls his gaze back to her golden eyes, but she's already noticed.

"Stop looking at me like that," she says, though the fire in her voice is a little different. Her eyes, however, betray her. They flicker to the door next to them. They've ended up by her quarters, which are conveniently close to Zuko's meeting rooms. Their arguments always end up with the two of them bickering outside her door, until he finally gives up and leaves. That's been their way since both of them became Zuko's advisor - he, a diplomat and an heir from the South Pole, she a reformed princess.

He doesn't know what that's supposed to mean, that they keep doing this dance. But her eyes flicker to her bedroom door for the first time in the many months they've repeated this charade of war.

"Like what?" he challenges back.

She glances at her door again, and then back at him. Her hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin, and before he realizes what's going on, she's hauled him inside her room and bolted it shut. For a moment, he thinks she wants no witnesses to the brutal electrocution murder she's about to inflict on him, but when she touches him, the sparks he feels are of an entirely different variety.

Her lips crash into his and she's clawing at his blue robes. At first, he thinks he's being attacked, but he's clawing at her red robes too, hands fumbling around the sash holding her ensemble together, while their tongues dance a war dance, two duelists parrying and riposting at each other. His gi is off and her sash is undone and their clothes come tumbling by their feet.

He doesn't know what the fuck is going on, but their eyes meet, and the anger and dislike are still there. That much he does understand.

A wave of unfiltered aggression overcomes him, so he hauls her up into his arms. She yelps into his mouth, but he's already thrown her onto her oversized bed with the silk sheets. Her robe hardly covers her - one nipple pokes out past the fabric, pink, puffy, and aroused. The open robe reveals a sea of milky pale skin that he wants nothing more than to lick from head to toe, but her eyes are still enraged, and he's sure his are too. He leaps towards her and possesses her mouth once more, but it doesn't last long. Every ounce of ground he takes, she retakes and encroaches on his. They are like an endless tug-of-war.

He doesn't know exactly when they're fully naked and wrestling for dominance on the bed, but she wins - the first round, anyway. He knows when she's pinned him down and slid herself smooth shaved self fully onto his length, and _oh Agni fuck him_ , she's absolutely soaked. When she's taken him to the hilt, he can feel the wetness of her cunt pool against the skin of his crotch. He gasps and she smiles in victory, feeling like she's won the war.

It's just a battle, not the whole fucking campaign, he thinks. She begins to move her hips languidly, working his cock with her pussy. She grips like a vice, and then loosens, and then grips again, in such agonizingly pleasurable ways that his mind threatens to go blank for all eternity. Suki _never_ fucked like this, not when they were together, before distance, physical and emotional split them apart.

The sting of his ex, and the whispers of her relationship with his best friend, is immediately forgotten when Azula grinds her clit into his crotch and lets out a moan so sinful that he forgets the sound of Suki's voice.

That moment of pleasure for her is where his brain decides to come back to life, and so he grips her hips and flips her over in one powerful motion. She squeals - Azula never squeals, some rational part of his brain manages to eke out before it's quashed under a tsunami of lust - and he fills her to the bottom of her channel, her cunt fully possessed by his cock. His hands find her arms and pin them back against the silken sheets.

Their eyes meet. She is fire, he is ice. They do not belong together, but they do react to each other. Hate comes easy, so when he pulls out only to plunge into her again, to have her cry out and for him to grunt her name into the nook of her pale collarbone, for him to place her legs on his shoulders and for her to dig her nails into his back, he can easily tell himself it is all a matter of anger and rage. They're doing this to hurt each other, he says.

But the last thing he feels is hurt, and from the glazed look of unadulterated want in her eyes, it is the last thing she feels, too. He ignores that knowledge and takes comfort in what he _thinks_ he knows, and pistons into her mercilessly, making her sopping wet pussy quake around his cock once, twice, and thrice before he finally spills inside her, in the middle of her fourth. He wanted to, but he wasn't so far gone that he wouldn't have pulled out, until her legs wrap around his waist and pull him in, desperate for his seed. If that wasn't enough, a hissed 'give me your fucking come, you bastard' into his ear is sign enough that she wants it too.

Coming inside her makes his mind go blank, and he collapses next to her in bed, more or less dead and gone to the spirit world. They lay like that for a minute, until he becomes acutely aware of Azula's heartbeat.

It's racing. And so is his, even though it should be relaxed by now.

A heartbeat reminds him that Azula isn't just an object of hatred, she's a person. A person who feels, as much as she tries to pretend not to. That realization is what makes him look.

He turns over and looks at her. One of his hands has begun to idly play with her hair, of its own accord. It shocks him as much as it does her. Their eyes meet, and the hate is gone.

Without it, everything becomes uncomfortable. He leaps out of bed, gathers his clothes, and dresses in a hurry. He can feel her eyes boring into his back. He can't leave fast enough.

Outside her door, the mindlessness of what he's done catches up with him. He fucked Azula. Hell, she fucked _him._ And it was fucking amazing.

It was a mistake.

He rushes back to his quarters, feeling a sea of shame rise up in him.

She stares at the door, and for the first time in so long, she's confused. Not delusional, not hallucinating, not at the brink of sanity - just confused.

The only experience she has is Chan and her fingers. This was significantly, wildly better than both. Yet she _liked -_ or at least, wanted to like - Chan, even if that only progressed as far as an aborted kiss, and her fingers, well, she can chalk that up to her own skill.

She knows one thing - she'll never admit that he was her first. Fingers aside.

She strongly dislikes that savage from the poles, and yet, she turns over and breathes in, finding a strange peace in the covers that smell like him.

* * *

He can't get her out of his head.

It's because it was a mistake. He knows this. What else could it be? She's...

 _What? Beautiful? Challenging? Thrilling? Aggravating? Wildly good in bed?_ a voice says in his head.

 _She's Azula_ , he replies, as if that ought to settle the matter.

He looks up, and he wishes he hadn't.

Zuko is many things - a good ruler, increasingly patient, more wise as the years drag on - his best friend is the best the Fire Nation could have asked for after Ozai. He is the perfect mixture of pride in his culture and humility in expression. He is an able diplomat, a masterful warrior, and a dutiful administrator.

He's also marrying Sokka's ex-girlfriend.

Zuko and Suki descend from the grand staircase to the raucous cheers of the reception-goers, and Sokka downs another flute of champagne. The royal couple looks fantastic - Suki is as beautiful as always, and Zuko looks far less moody with her on his arm. They are objectively good for one another. Suki's temperament suits Zuko's far more than it ever suited his.

He shouldn't feel bitter about a teenage infatuation. Hell, he fell heads over heels for Yue _after_ the first time Suki kissed him. He hadn't even thought about the Kyoshi Warrior when he was with Yue in the North, and frankly, Yue sometimes still took up more of his heart than she had even when they were together. That wasn't fair to Suki. He still feels guilty about it, and he knows that when she pointed it out, and suggested that perhaps their time had run its course, she was in the right.

Hell, even today, he confides more in the Moon than he ever did in Suki.

But he does feel bitter, and no amount of champagne can really make it go away, so he puts on a brave, happy face, and toasts the royal couple loudly and without reservation. Zuko's smile is grateful, happy that Sokka is understanding.

Suki sees right through it, so much so that the auburn-haired new Fire Lady approaches him later, during the reception, as the royal couple makes the rounds and thanks the party-goers.

"How are you, Sokka?" she asks.

He's not sure how to answer. "A little drunk, Your Majesty," he says with his joker's smile. The best deflection is a pointless truth.

She chuckles. "You know that's not what I was asking. And enough with the Your Majesty bullshit. You won't be laughing when I really pull rank on you."

He holds the smile. "Alright, you win. I've been busy, I guess. Helping your husband run a country is kinda exhausting. Lucky for me I've got you to take over for me sometimes now."

She senses that he doesn't wanna talk about it, and he can see in her cobalt eyes that she's debating whether or not to press, so he throws her a bone. "I'm doing fine, Suki. I'm just starting to wonder whether or not it's time for me to return to the Southern Water Tribe. There's been some tensions among the interior Ice River clans. They think Dad's consolidated too much power in the chiefdom, as if we're trying to remake ourselves into a copy of the North."

"War?" she asks, worriedly.

He doesn't hold back the truth. "Maybe. Dad's getting older. The tribe needs their warrior prince, I suppose. Aang's too busy with the Harmony Restoration Movement to deal with some backwater uprisings."

"You know he'd make time, if you asked," Suki points out. "Hell, he's married to a Southern Water Tribeswoman."

"No. If the Avatar came in and settled my fights for me, I'd never be respected as a leader," he says.

"Aang put Zuko on his throne," Suki says.

"And Zuko spent the painful first few years of his reign proving himself," Sokka argues. "I mean, we all know he's the right guy for the job, but nobody else did. He had to show it."

Suki bites her lip. "Don't go back. Not yet, at least."

"Why?" He's genuinely curious.

She sighs. "This is selfish of me. I'm happy. I'm married to the Fire Lord, for Agni's sake. But I miss having all our friends nearby. I miss spending time with our gang from the war. I haven't seen Katara since Bumi was born. Aang visits only sporadically, we both know he's busy. Toph... Sokka, Toph had a kid without any of us finding out _until_ Lin was born."

"Your point?" Sokka asks.

"My point is that it feels like we've all drifted apart."

He snorts. It's an amusing sentiment - Sokka and her drifted apart quite a while ago. He's not sure it's drifting, anyway. Everyone is growing, moving, changing roles and responsibilities. They aren't the same people they were when they were fifteen or sixteen. Now they're all only a few years away from thirty and life has taken them all in different directions.

All except Sokka. Sokka's been the same, more or less. He's the only one who doesn't seem to have grown.

"We're not drifting apart, Suki. We're all just growing into new roles. We weren't going to stay the same as we all were back during the war."

"I know," she says, looking past him. "But still. It hurts a little."

Sokka pulls two champagne flutes from the passing waiter and hands one to Suki, clinking their glasses together. "Here's a wonderful way to deal with it." He smiles, but her lopsided grin is one of worry, even as she downs the flute with him.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

The question hits him out of the blue. Without thinking, his eyes dart past Suki, to where a beautiful, challenging, thrilling, aggravating, and wildly good in bed woman stands talking to some minister of something. She's wearing a red and black gown that has a plunging neckline, open all the way down to her navel, revealing a tasteful amount of cleavage, sexy and sensual without looking like some cheap market whore's dress. Suki whips around and follows his eyes to her, and then looks at him agape.

"You're not serious," she says. "You're joking."

"I'm not seeing her," he says mildly. It's the truth, anyway. The only seeing he's done of her is the one time, naked, glorious, laid out for him in bed, _ordering him to spill his seed inside her_ -

"Good." Suki crosses her arms, and now it's Sokka's turn to be floored. Is she jealous?

"Why?" he blurts out of curiosity.

Suki looks down at the floor, but Sokka isn't about to let her off so easy. "C'mon, Suki. You can tell me. If she's making threats, I'll kick her-"

"She used to tell me she would chain you up in front of me in the Boiling Rock and seduce you." The truth is out before she can contain it, and Sokka is so flabbergasted he just laughs.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't make me say it again, Sokka." Her eyes look a little dimmer. "I know we're not a thing anymore, but you'll still always be special to me. And when I was in the Boiling Rock, when I was her prisoner..." She shivers. "I know she's different now, but she used to talk about you to hurt me."

"Huh," Sokka says. "She foiled the Day of Black Sun invasion by talking about you to hurt me."

Suki looks up at him in wonder. "What? You never told me about this."

"Toph's the only one who knows," Sokka says. "I had her dead to rights during the eclipse. She told me..." Sokka trails off. "It's not worth repeating. I kind of lost it."

Suki looks at him and her eyes are unreadable. "Why did you never tell me?"

He shrugs. "I didn't want to make you relive the Boiling Rock."

"Admirable and chivalrous," a high, cold voice says. They both whip around to look at Azula. Suki cringes and takes a step backwards. "Now there, dear sister-in-law, let me be the first to assure you - I will take no act to harm you, Zuko, or any potential offspring you may spawn together. My priority is the Fire Nation, and the Fire Nation begins and ends with our royal dynasty."

"What do you want?" Suki asks, the hostility in her voice barely concealed.

"To borrow our dear diplomat from the Southern Water Tribe, of course." Those golden suns settle on his face, and he burns a little red, remembering how they looked filled with mindless lust and desire instead of cold and calculated reason.

"We were talking," Suki says belligerently.

"Yes, and since you married my brother and not him, you can talk to someone else now," Azula says coldly. "You may feel differently, but marriage entitles you to the exclusivity of companionship of only your husband, not your former lovers." Suki looks at her with a shocked rage and storms off, and Sokka watches her go.

"Probably not wise to antagonize your brother's wife like that," he says. The champagne is starting to get to him, but she pulls another two glasses and hands him one.

They've met, in the three months since they fucked. But everything changed. They argued just as much in the meeting rooms, but afterwards, he dared not follow her to her door. Their 'relationship' - if what they had could be called one - began and ended in Zuko's council chambers.

"There's little hope of a cordial relationship there," Azula muses. "I kept her prisoner."

"You also nearly taunted me into killing you when I was sixteen. Look at us now," he says.

They both share a chuckle. "I wouldn't term our relationship cordial. Productive, perhaps."

Sokka nearly chokes on his drink.

"I mean in matters of administration, Sokka," She looks at him with a knowing, predatory grin fixed to her face, and he gulps.

 _Spirits,_ this woman will be the fucking death of him. Then it strikes him that in their several years of working side by side - hell, at least since the one time she _used_ his name, on the Day of Black Sun - that this is the first time she's said his name.

"Walk with me?" he offers. He knows he probably shouldn't.

She takes his arm.

They have two more glasses of champagne as they drift through the party, meeting dignitaries from around the world. Aang is there, and they talk with him for a while, though Sokka nearly falls over laughing to see his all-powerful friend send him non-verbal eye-signals, as if to say 'blink twice if you're here against your will.' Katara didn't make it because she's too heavily pregnant with their second child, a fact that Sokka is secretly grateful for. Katara and Azula still have bad blood.

Eventually, they make their way to Zuko, who eyes them with suspicion.

"You two are getting along far too well," he says, eyes traveling back and forth between them.

Sokka shrugs. "Nothing like a marriage to bring the whole gang back together, eh buddy?"

Zuko looks at him unamused.

"I'm simply taking our dear diplomat around to meet all the dignitaries," Azula says smoothly. "He'll need the connections if he's to return to his home and rule in place of Chief Hakoda."

His friend looks at him with surprise. "Sokka, you're thinking of returning? You haven't mentioned it to me. Why? Is your dad alright?"

"Dad's fine. The clans are getting a little antsy, though, and I'm not sure he's got the energy left to corral a bunch of rebellious tribes and drag them kicking and screaming into the future," Sokka says. He shoots Azula a glare for spilling his unspoken plans.

"You can't leave now," Zuko says firmly, in a voice that'll brook no opposition. "I still need your help."

"You have it," Sokka says with a sigh. "But I'm not going to be much help if I don't have a nation to represent. I'll have to go back sooner or later. Ideally the former."

Zuko waves it away. "If there's any trouble, I'll help you deal with it. We'll talk about this later, though. Go enjoy the party. Today's my wedding day." Sokka smiles and raises another glass in toast. From the rising warmth in his chest and neck, he can tell he's well and drunk now, even though the effects haven't fully set in.

Somehow, he and Azula have stumbled around the garden, laughing more than they should, arm in arm. It's empty here - the party is contained to the adjacent hall - and peaceful, so they find a turtleduck pond to sit by. He nearly falls in twice, but she pulls him back just in time.

He's too drunk to realize it, but he's having a great time with Azula.

"Why... why'd you tell Zuko?" he slurs, as they plop down on a bench under a cherry blossom tree.

"Tell him what?" she says, giggling. And then Sokka realizes they're both _fucking sloshed._

 _"_ Tell him I... I gots 'ta go back," he hiccups.

She looks at him funny. "Because Zuzu would force you to stay," she says, as if its the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah but why?" he asks, whining a little.

She blinks, and then looks down at the ground, and then back up at him. For once, there's no _plan_ in her eye, no goal, no...

_Oh._

His eyes wander over to her lips and the same ruby lipstick that did him in last time.

This time, he kisses her first. It's more gentle, more exploring than their first, which was filled with the passion that only comes from unbridled hate. This... he doesn't know what this is. Even if he was sober, he wouldn't. They aren't playing tug of war anymore. It's not a battle for dominance, but a cooperative effort now, as if they want nothing more than to give each other the best kiss they possibly can. Drunk as they are, there's more teeth involved than their should be, but it is nice.

He likes this. Significantly more than their hate-kiss.

This kiss somehow teleports them from the garden to the door outside his chambers, which are closer to the great hall than hers. He's been allowed to redecorate, so there's more blue here than in the rest of the Fire Nation combines, and she giggles as she points it out when she comes inside. He turns around to bolt his door, and when he faces her, she's already slipped out of her red and black dress to reveal that she has on nothing but blue lace panties underneath.

Blue.

He draws close, mesmerized by her. She has an oddly vulnerable look on her face, one he's never seen before. He slips out of his clothes and pulls her against him, his hardening length pressing against her taut belly. He is a whole foot taller than this woman, who can hardly be 5'1 on her tallest day, Surely their height difference wasn't this pronounced when they were younger, was it? She's not trying to be big, make herself out as a threat, and so it strikes him just how petite she is.

His hands travel over her waist, hips, and eventually fall to cup her ass. "Is this for me?" he says of the panties, his inebriated mind drawing a conclusion. "Were you planning this?"

Shyly - Azula, shy, of all things - she says, "Yes."

He picks her up in his arms and carries her over to his bed, continuing their kiss. Laying her on the edge of it, he kneels on the floor, trailing kisses down from the inviting nook of her collarbone, down past her perfect nipples, all the way to her cunt. She's aroused, wet, ready for him, and he's like a man starved. He can only nibble around her thighs so long until he buries his face into her pussy, his tongue etching calligraphy into her folds and around her clit. She makes a keening noise and her hands crawl into his hair and bury themselves there, holding him in place, as if he'll tear away from her.

Like he ever could. She's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. He's over and done for, gone, defeated, vanquished. He'll never have anything like her ever again.

There's nothing like her out there at all.

He laps at her happily for minutes without end, taking her from mountain peak to mountain peak of pleasure, until eventually, panting, she begs him to enter her.

She pleads. She calls his name. "Sokka, Sokka, Sokka." She doesn't order or command like last time, but Sokka jumps to his task even faster.

He sits with his back against the headboard and gently guides her on top of him. She impales herself on his hard cock, until they're sitting, her on top of him, as one, completely interlocked. She lifts and falls on him, slowly, and he rises and falls with her. They move together as one. Their foreheads touch, dripping sweat, and their hands intertwine above their heads, against the wall, as they fall into a rhythm, like two perfectly attuned dancers.

She seeks his lips, and he eagerly gives them to her. Their tongues dance in step with their bodies, and when he tears his mouth away, it's only so that he can drag his tongue over the swathes of exposed skin - her neck, her earlobe, and in an act of considerable dexterity, her breasts. He doesn't ignore any part of her, making her whole body his temple for unabashed worship.

"I'm not gonna last much longer," he whispers raggedly into her ear. "Spirits, Azula, what have you done to me?" It is an honest question. He is bewitched.

"I need you inside me, Sokka," she pants wantonly. "Please fill me?" Unlike last time, it is a request, not a demand. It's probably not the wisest course of action, but then again, nothing about this is wise.

"Yes," he breathes. "Anywhere you want. Anything you want, Princess."

She shudders with pleasure when he calls her Princess like that, and the contractions of her cunt are enough to make him peak. He grabs ahold of her hips and slams into her once, twice, and thrice, bringing her to her own climax as he spills inside of her. With a loud cry, she collapses in his arms, her own looping around his neck, her head resting against his heaving chest. He doesn't even have it in him to pull out of her, so he just pulls the covers around them as they both fall asleep.

* * *

Azula wakes first, her head pounding. There is something strange about this. Her ceiling looks different.

And there's a warm body next to her in bed. Next to is an understatement. She is tucked into someone - wholly enveloped, warm, and safe.

The room smells like sex and Sokka, and her mind becomes fully alert.

No, no, no. She can't be here. She can do anything but see him get up and leave like this is a mistake again.

Because that's what this is. Another mistake. Not because it's him, necessarily, but because he's got a choice between whatever this is and duty, and she knows he'll pick duty. She would too.

She gathers her clothes and looks back at him, and she really wishes she hadn't, because he has a goofy, innocent little smile plastered to his face, and she hears him whisper her name in the throes of some happy dream.

She can't afford to think this was anything but a mistake, so she ignores it, as much as it rips her in two to do so, and steals away.

* * *

She supposes she only has herself to blame when, two weeks later, Zuko storms into his council chambers. Sokka isn't there.

Things have been awkward between them. Whereas before, they would argue and debate about work, and then avoid each other, now they're only avoiding each other. Zuko has noticed, but he thinks it's because Suki is now attending these meetings too. As if Azula or Sokka would behave for _her._

But now he isn't here at all. No one can find him, so Zuko has gone to his chambers and returns with a scribbled note. He's left three. One for each of them.

She can feel her traitorous heart hammer away at her ribcage as she opens hers. It is far, far shorter than theirs, which are official letters. Hers is but a scrap of paper.

She wouldn't trade it for either of theirs, however. She burns it in her palm and tosses the ashes away.

"What in Agni's name was that?" Zuko asks her, bewildered. "What did he say to you?"

"That he'll miss our endless bickering," Azula lies. "What did he write to you? What is the real reason the snow savage has run away?"

"Chief Hakoda isn't doing well," Suki answers. "He thinks it's past time he went home and took control of the Southern Water Tribe."

Zuko looks less angry than he was before he read Sokka's note. He sighs and slumps into his chair. "I miss him," he says. "Bastard. My best friend. I miss him already."

Suki rubs her husband's shoulders. "I think we got lucky that Sokka stayed as long as he did. He told me we weren't growing apart, we were just all growing up, and that meant we'd take on different roles and responsibilities. I suppose Sokka has found his. In a way, I'm happy for him."

"Yes," Azula echoes emptily. She doesn't agree. She's not lucky, not like they were. They knew him longer than she did. She wishes she had all the time they had. The only mistake she thinks she's made now is leaving his bed early. What if she'd stayed? What if she'd kissed him when he woke up? Would he still be here?

She thinks about the two sentences he had left her.

_I think I would have left months ago, were it not for you._

_If it was a mistake, then it's the best mistake I've ever made._

She looks up, sensing a pair of eyes on her. It's not Zuko, but Zuko's wife, instead, staring at her with a pair of cobalt eyes that convey everything. She knows - not the entirety of it all, Azula supposes, but Sokka was hers for a while, too. She understands the man, at least a little bit, and she knows. Azula leaves and doesn't allow the tears to spill from her eyes until she's in her room.

Zuko knocks a little later. She can always tell because it's hesitant, as it always has been, as if he's mindful of her personal space. The tears have dried and she's left only with bitterness now.

She opens the door and lets him in silently. He stalks over to the little bureau in the corner of and sits on the chair.

"I'm sending you to the South Pole," he says, after a minute.

She looks up at him, surprised.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Why?" she questions.

"If there is a war around the corner, Sokka will need your help."

"Having me around there would cause his people to turn against him even more," she argues. "If anything, you should go. Or send Suki and Ty Lee. Contact the Avatar."

Zuko shakes his head patiently. "I can't go. Sokka's people might tolerate me now, but I attacked them. If I show up ready to fight, it'll be a disaster for Sokka. I need Suki here, and Ty Lee isn't serious enough for the job. It has to be you. The South Pole doesn't have a grudge against you the way the Earth Kingdom does. Other than Sokka and Katara, did you even interact with anyone from the South Pole during the war? Other than the prisoners from the Day of Black Sun, all of whom were broken out of prison by Sokka and me?"

"Avatar Aang," Azula repeats obstinately. "He can do it."

"Aang is needed in the Earth Kingdom. Kuei's rule is weak and he needs the help establishing control outside of Ba Sing Se. Besides, Katara's due to give birth any day now." Zuko gives a valid reason for why everyone besides her is otherwise occupied.

"I don't want to," she says stubbornly, knowing full well that she does want to.

"I know you and Sokka haven't always seen eye to eye, but... for the last few months, at least, I thought something had changed. You weren't fighting like animals anymore, but actually debating, sharpening each other's suggestions. I don't know if you've noticed, but the plans you two have settled on have been some of the best we've implemented since I became Fire Lord."

She has noticed, in fact.

"We simply learned how to hone our dislike for one another in a productive manner," she deflects.

Zuko sighs. "I'm not an idiot, Azula. You don't dislike Sokka. You dislike Katara. You dislike Suki, even, and you definitely aren't fond of Ty Lee and Mai after what happened at the Boiling Rock, but you don't dislike Sokka. And he doesn't dislike you, either. You two were getting along famously at my wedding reception."

"Alcohol helps," Azula mutters.

"Then take some bottles of sake with you to the South Pole. You're going," Zuko commands.

* * *

She huddles inside her coat, the wind buffeting at her as the ship draws closer and closer to the great sprawling white land in front of her.

Agni's sake, how do people live here?

She pulls into the harbor, and what greets her is nothing like she'd expected. Before she left Caldera, Zuko had described Sokka's village as a decimated place full of children and the elderly, but this is no war-torn hamlet. It is a bustling city, a grand place made of high walls of ice.

But there is some moroseness in the air. People are dressed in finery, but there is no happiness on anyone's face. Many of the elders wear some kind of ceremonial paint on their faces.

Part of the harbor has been cordoned off, and no ships dock there. Azula sees a large crowd gathered there. There is only a singular ship, an old sailboat laden high with things. When she disembarks, she goes to the crowd, fighting through the throng. People are _wailing_ , chanting, some kind of mournful dirge that conveys a profound sense of loss. She feels uneasiness coiling in her stomach, as she arrives at the head of the throng.

There is Sokka, clad in armor, dressed like a king, drawing back a bow with a flaming arrow tip. He lets it loose, and it hits the sailboat that's drifting out of the harbor. The thing goes up in flames, and Azula watches it burn.

He stares at the burning boat for a while, before he turns around. He does not see her immediately. His people bow to him in respect, and Azula understands what has happened. Hakoda has passed from this world, and now Sokka leads them.

She is the only one not bowing, and he looks at her. His lips are pursed, his brow furrowed, and his face is that of someone who is struggling with hardship, but when he sees her, the corners of his lips tug upwards just an inch.

* * *

He has a little palace of his own. It's not grand and ostentatious like the Fire Nation palace, but it's enough for his little kingdom. It's made of some kind of hard construction material of Sokka's own invention, something he sent the plans back to his people for well before he came back to rule them, but decorated with wood and ice in a traditional Water Tribe manner. That's where they are now, as evening turns into night. It's warm in here. She doesn't understand precisely how, but she knows Sokka has something to do with it. The man's mind is capable of mechanical ingenuity, the kind of ingenuity that improves lives and livelihoods. She knows he'll make an excellent leader.

He hunches over a map of the interior of the South Pole, pointing out different locations to her.

"There are thirteen clans in total in the South, including ours, the Wolf Clan," he says. "Our capital, here, Agna Ith'el, is the largest city and the biggest port. There's another port, further down the coastline, called Avanaata, ruled by the Eel Clan. We have nominal allegiance from all the clans - at least, Dad did." She sees him swallow harshly, and her mind tells her to go put her hand in his, give it a comforting squeeze, before she thinks better of it.

"But now, with you as the chief of your clan..." Azula muses, "You'll have to re-secure the allegiances of all the clans, one by one."

He nods. "We've already received word from the nearest town, inland - Nuuk. My mother's clan, the Raven Clan, holds that town. They've sworn to us already. My mother's cousin is Chief there."

"Who is your greatest threat?"

He points far inland. "There's a bunch of ice rivers here, and one in particular, the largest, which we call the Weeping Water. The Ice River clans are quarrelsome, but out of the three, there's a town straddling both sides of the Weeping called Tammagvik. The Bear Clan that controls that town is warlike and fierce. Before the Fire Nation forced us all to work together, they were our rivals for influence and power."

"Will they use force of arms?" she asks.

"Most likely."

"Then ride out and meet them. Gather your forces from here and Nuuk, and march to the other port. Make them submit and cut Tammagvik off from the sea. Move from town to town, securing their submission and their forces. You don't have to go to war, Sokka. You just need to show them your strength, and decisively. Then march on Tammagvik last and make them submit," she advises.

He looks up at her, and she can see her fire mirrored in his sapphire eyes. He may have been hesitant to be aggressive with the Earth Kingdom, but these are his people, this is his culture. He knows he has to prove himself, and he cannot be overly diplomatic. "Will you come with me?"

"Of course I will."

* * *

Warm as it is inside the Agna Ith'el palace, she hates it. Her room is not lavish, but it is comfortable, clean, and she has everything she needs.

She still hates it.

Her guard has been stationed in chambers adjacent to hers, though she was insistent on not bringing many. The Southern Water Tribe has had enough unwanted Fire Nation military presence on their shores. The last thing she wants is to give Sokka an image problem.

There's a knock at her door, and she flies in exasperation towards it, opening it to furiously tell the servant to leave her alone. The palace staff has been coming and going constantly, checking up on her every need. She feels more pampered than she is at home.

Just as she's about to launch on a tirade against the hapless servant at the door, she's met by piercing blue eyes she recognizes all too well. Her anger silenced, she pushes open her door to give him silent entry. He steps inside and closes the door behind him. Her breath catches.

She should say something. There's so much unsaid between them.

He sits down on the edge of her bed, and his eyes have not left her since she opened the door. "How have you been?" he asks.

The question itself does not match the intensity of his gaze. She swallows drily. She's not sure why she's nervous. She conquered Ba Sing Se at the age of fourteen. She conquered her demons and became a functioning member of her brother's regime. People _like_ her now - or at least, tolerate her, and without fear being the main reason why.

"I'm fine," she answers.

"We didn't get to talk much before I left," he says pointedly.

"No. It seems our paths did not cross." She cringes as she says it, knowing full the reason why. Why is it so hard to talk to him now when they were talking just fine an hour ago, in his war room, poring over maps and battle strategies?

"No, they didn't. Did you get my note?"

"I did. Zuzu could have read it, you know," she says.

He looks at her with that same burning gaze, and says, "I don't care."

"You should."

"Give me one reason why."

She sighs. "It's a mistake, Sokka."

"One time is a mistake. Two is troublesome." He gets up and walks towards her. She should step back, or ready herself to fight. She still trains regularly, and she knows she can take him in a fight easily, especially when he doesn't have his usual weapons.

But she doesn't. Instead, she lets him put his face inches away from hers.

"What would you call three?" he breathes. His eyes travel down to her lips, ruby red.

She has other shades of lipstick. She's worn them all before, and she still wears them all this day - her selection is not limited to just this particular shade. But she knew she'd see Sokka today, and so she wore this. If she'll stop lying to herself, she'll know exactly why she did it - because every time his eyes fall to her lips, and she can see the incredible depths of _want_ in those fucking azure oceans he has for irises, she knows it'll give her the push she needs to succumb to her desires.

Can it really be called a mistake if she does this a third time? _Frankly_ , she thinks, _who gives a fuck?_

She leaps at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, their lips meeting desperately. They fall into bed together, and tear at each other's clothes - _fuck_ , they wear so many clothes here in this frozen land. She can't deny the comfort of the furs and covers on the bed, nor the way he presses kisses from her lips down to her navel and below, and how wet she already is for him when his tongue travels the paths between her thighs that he knows so well. Her moans are soft and happy - it's just as good when they're not inebriated, if not better - and he laps at her like a man dying of thirst in the desert. When he makes her come, he crawls back up to her and kisses her, and she hungrily devours his lips. The taste of herself on him drives her mindless with raging arousal, and she fumbles with his hard cock, positioning it at the entrance of her cunt.

He doesn't last as long this time, and Agni knows she doesn't want him to. If she has her way, he'll make her come tonight, tomorrow night, and every night after that. He's still a skilled enough lover to bring her to peak once with his cock before his thrusts become erratic and jerky, and he growls in her ear, an impending sign of his own explosion.

She thinks she knows what she wants before an infinitely more fiendish idea takes possession of her. She lifts herself off him and lays him back on the bed, before kneeling by the bedside. Grabbing a hold of his cock with both hands, she stares at him for a long second before engulfing the head with her mouth.

The guttural moan that escapes him shoots straight down to her womb, and she begins to suck, lick, and fondle lovingly, teasingly, bringing him back from the brink and then again towards it ever so slowly, in a torturous manner. She can taste herself on him, her own musky nectar mixed with the slickness of his own pre-come, and she loves how fucking right it is. Her only warning is when his hands travel to her head, as if hanging on for stability, and then he explodes in her mouth. She swallows the first few blasts, and then lets the rest dribble all over her mouth and chin. A thin rope stretches between her lips and the ruby-lipstick stained head of his cock when she looks up with him. His eyes are unfocused, as if she knocked him unconscious, but soon his consciousness returns, and he hauls her up by the arms, back up onto the bed and onto him. He holds her tight.

When she wakes up, however, he's gone, and the familiar ache and hurt settles low in her heart and soul.  
  
Another mistake.

* * *

Sokka's campaign across the South Pole is an unequivocal success. He gathers his forces, both his Wolf Clan and the Raven Clan of his mother, and marches to the other port city. They close their gates for one night; the next morning, their clan leaders come out and bend the knee to Sokka as High Chief. He does not punish for obstinacy, but embraces them like they're his own, asks if they have any concerns or matters for him to settle, or whether they need any supplies from Agna Ith'el.   
  
When he leaves two mornings later, they give him all their soldiers save the bare minimum needed for a town guard. He repeats this from town to town, and all the clans bow to him - Stag Clan, Seagull Clan, Goat Clan, Lynx Clan, and all the others.

And every night, he bows to her, loves her in every way that she wants, except for the one he cannot give. When she forces the answer out of him, it's obvious to her all along. She's going to leave when this is over. He doesn't say the words, but she knows it's a mistake. She stops counting how many times they keep repeating this mistake, but she doesn't care. It hurts the same every morning when her bed is empty, but in the nights, she's a goddess, and he is the only worshipper she needs.

When he has control of all the clans, except for the three Ice River clans, it is their territory he arrives at last, with a host at his back.

But the Ice River clans have not been idle. Under the Bear Clan, the Snakes and Boars have rallied, and they are fearsome. They ride to battle on huge polar bear dogs, and woolly mammoths, and spiders of ice. Among their number are people Azula hesitates to call people - they are more giant than man. 

She comes with him when he meets them for a parley. Their leader, the young chief of the Bear Clan, seems more a Snake than a bear. He has a smile Azula does not trust, and beady, observant eyes that remind her of someone from long ago. She racks her brain hard for who it is, when the answer hits her like a ray of sun - Long Feng. He calls himself Aok, a name Azula grimaces at. She has learned enough of the native language of Sokka's people to know that name means 'blood.'  
  
There is a pretty girl next to him - his wife, Azula thinks at first, until the man makes his proposition. 

"Come to Tammagvik. Eat of our salt and seal, stay by our hearth. I understand, Chief Sokka of the Wolf Clan, that you are unspoken for. My sister here, Anana, is unspoken for as well. If you both will marry, we of the Ice River Clans will acknowledge your lordship over these lands as our High Chief. You will be our blood and we will be yours."

Azula's grip tightens around her chair.

_No. No. NO._

She looks over Sokka, her face impassive. He does not tear his eyes away from Aok.

"You make a generous offer, Chief Aok. Give me time to consider." He gets up and steps away from the tent pitched between their armies, and she and his guard follow behind. He gestures for her to follow. It is only the two of them, out here in this desolate frozen wasteland, with the only nearby people being the two armies situated on either side, and Sokka's guardsmen fifty feet away.

"What do you think?" he asks.

"What do you mean, what do I think?" she retorts, struggling to keep her tone even.

"I mean, do you think the offer is worth it?" He gestures to the army behind him. "We have the superior numbers. We have Waterbenders."

Shee realizes what he is offering. He is telling her he will go to battle rather than marry this woman, if she does not wish him to. What she wants is within reach. All she has to do is reach out and grasp it. All she has to do is tell him to have his countrymen die by the thousands, so that he will not have to marry for duty, so that he can be free to follow his heart. It is the height of selfishness, but it is what she wants, and she thinks its what he wants, too. But how can she ask him to give up the lives of thousands for a mistake? How can she ask him to have sleepless nights for the rest of his life so that he can steal into her room and fuck her brains out and make love to her and marry her and give her children and-

She halts that train of thought. If she goes down there, she will tell him to throw Aok's offer back in his face and make ready for battle. Hell, she'll go out there and burn Aok's army and his village and his people to fucking cinders for him, if she thinks of the _children_ -

 _No._ She stops herself once more.

"You might," she says slowly, fighting back the bile that comes with every unwanted word leaving her mouth this moment. "But you'll break your people here if you do, Sokka. Accepting gives you everything without a drop of bloodshed. The single most peaceful conquest in all history. Accepting the offer is the wisest choice."

He steps towards her, but she steps back. "What if I don't want to be wise?" he says, his voice choked. His eyes are blazing, blue as they are, reminding her of her own fire.

"Then you'd be making a mistake," she replies softly. And just like that, she has put out the fire in his eyes, and she wants nothing more than to cry.

* * *

They are fed salt and seal meat when they enter Tammagvik's great citadel, an imposing castle, but made of wood and ice. Sokka watches Azula look about as if assessing every single threat in this place.

Sokka explains to her that salt and seal meat are signs of trust in his culture - once given by a host to the guest, it invokes a sacred right of protection. No harm can come to the guest under the host's watch. It is a sacred protection his people have not broken in ages.

Azula says there's a first - or first in a while - time for everything.

There is a feast, thrown in preparation. It is loud and bawdy affair, filled with drink and celebration and dance, but it is not the wedding itself - that is on the next day. So that night, she steals away from her quarters and to Sokka's. The guards - his guards - do not even question her as she slips in. Azula swears one of them gives her a sad smile, as if he knows what is happening, what will happen tomorrow, and feels sorrow for what she must sacrifice.

He's awake, sitting by the side of his bed, with his head in his hands. He hears her wordlessly glide over to him, kneel between his legs, and tip his chin up with her soft hand. The contrast of their skin is stark in the night - she milky white, he cinnamon brown, and she presses her lips to his the way he did in the garden of the Fire Nation palace, when they both realized this was never about hatred or frustration or animalistic want, but something more. She slips off her robe and he helps, and then she takes of his clothes. They can't take their eyes off each other. They don't want to.   
  
He is not the creature of raw, unrestrained passion he was when she arrived in the south on the day of his father's funeral. He takes his time, savoring every breath she breathes, kissing and touching and licking every inch of her skin as if he's committing her to memory, remembering her so that he can carve a perfect stone statue in his mind that'll last the test of time. If this is going to be their last time, then he wants it to be his greatest. An errant thought crosses his mind as his kisses fall below the hook of her collarbone and down her sternum, in between her beautiful breasts - this might honestly be the last time he beds a woman. How could anyone compare to this goddess, this queen, this lovely spirit from the other world? 

Their lovemaking is slow and languid. He has never shied away from more experimental positions in the past, but now he feels the burning need to look at her eyes while they do this. He never stops keeping their faces close, kissing her, nipping at her bottom lip, pressing a flurry of kisses to her cheeks, nose, and brow, even as his cock strokes her inner walls in the slowest motion possible, every inch of her gripping around his length as she squeezes and loosens at an aggravatingly casual pace. He picks her up and carries her to the wall, which he uses as support for her back, and then he begins to piston in and out of her. She has thus far tried to restrain her moans, but all their resistance has faded, and Sokka doesn't hide what he's doing anymore. She is his. He is hers. There's nothing mistaken about that. She's had his soul from the moment she pulled him into that room in the palace.

She cries his name. It'll never sound so sweet as when she cries it, so he resolves never to hear another woman cry it ever again. This is all he wants - every night, every day, her in his arms, naked, wet, willing, loving, fierce, angry, sharp, and gorgeous, everything that is Azula and no one else on this world. 

"In me. One last time, my love," she keens, tears falling from her eyes, tears falling from his, as she makes one last plea of him. And he does. They collapse there, against the wall, holding each other, as she weeps into the nook between his neck and shoulder. He carries her gently to his bed, and they crawl into the covers together. She doesn't want to close her eyes, because when she does, he'll be gone, or she'll wake up in her room, but there's just too much emotion for her body to take and she weeps herself to sleep.

But when she does wake up, early in the morning, he's still there, unblinking, a single hand idly playing with her hair, just as he'd done when they first had sex in what feels like so long ago.

* * *

The first sign was when they closed the doors. The second was when their musicians played that damn song, the one that spoke of the Bear Clan's great victory over the Wolves to their north so long ago.

Arrows flew through the hall, cutting down Sokka's guards and wedding goers indiscriminately. Sokka's new wife is long gone, disappeared somewhere, whisked away by her brother. Only Sokka and a few remaining guardsmen are left alive, fending off the treacherous Bears and Snakes and Boars. And Azula, there next to him.

She fights and fights, but they don't stop coming. She hears a cry behind her, and she spins around with horror. The last of Sokka's guards falls, an arrow lodged in his throat, and Sokka looks at her numbly, his wedding robes stained with blood. He has no weapon, fighting with his hands only, and the knife he was able to pick up from one assailant.

Then she sees Aok step from the shadows, and embrace Sokka like a brother. When he pulls away, there is a knife, sprouting from Sokka's chest. Her beloved looks at her with surprise, and then he falls to the ground, whispering her name. It is the last name he breathes.

Rage. She has suppressed it for so long, pushed away the anger and the hatred that Ozai festered in her, the unwavering belief in the superiority of the Fire Nation, the hatred for the weakness of other peoples, and the tireless power of her bending. 

She resolved to be better, back then, after Zuko rescued her countless times from a pit of insanity. She resolved to use either channel it or store it away. With Sokka, she channeled it into... she doesn't know. Love, she supposes. She's never felt it before, so she doesn't know what to call it, but this burning feeling - surely it must be love.

She found out only the night before how much she loved Sokka. It's deeper than the deepest point in the oceans. Now, it has all transformed into a burning rage, at the sight of her dead beloved.

Later, of this night, they will say that lightning rained down from the sky as never before, and hundreds screamed as they were engulfed in a giant blue pyre of hatred and misery. She kills everyone in the village. She does not spare a single soul. Aok she kills the slowest, most painfully, but she does not spare his sister - Sokka's widow, a deranged part of her laughs - nor the elderly, nor the women, nor the children, nor their giants or their mounts. This is all of their crime, an affront to Sokka's gods and spirits, an affront to humanity. He had told her the guest right was sacred. The life of the whole clan was bound to it.

If so, she deems all their lives forfeit. Tammagvik is nothing more than a charred ruin of embers and burned bodies when she is done.

She takes Sokka's body and marches further into the frozen wastes. She knows not how long she marches on, but eventually she arrives at a forest. It is a strange thing, some still-rational part of her says. There should not be a forest here, so deep in the pole. It makes no sense. It ought not even be physically possible. But lo and behold, there are trees, with brown boughs and green leaves, with twisted and knotted roots. She takes Sokka's body into the forest, until she comes to a clearing with a pool, and suddenly, all her exhaustion catches up with her. 

* * *

When she wakes up, she realizes there is another woman there, and she has pulled Sokka into the pool.

"Stop!" Azula screams, throat burning from how dry it is. "Don't you dare touch him!"

The woman looks up and gives her a sad smile. "Hello, Azula."

Hearing her name gives her pause, and then she really _looks_ at the woman. She's glowing, and see through, and incredibly beautiful. She knows who this is. She's heard about her, briefly. Sokka never spoke about her much, but he did say at least once that she was someone he'd loved and lost a long time ago. The other details she'd gotten from Zuko and Iroh.

"Princess Yue?" she asks.

The spirit gives a tinkling laugh. "More spirit now than Princess, Princess Azula," she says. "Are you alright?"

Is she alright? The question is so banal she wants to laugh. How could she possibly be alright?

"No," Azula answers, honestly.

"Me neither. I felt it in the other world, when he was stabbed." She looks down at Sokka's submerged spirit sadly.

"Did you come to say goodbye?" Azula asked. "Get in line."

"No, I didn't, Azula," the spirit says, looking at her one more time. "I've been watching you from the moment you two began to feel for each other. I thought Sokka might have fallen into a destructive pattern, so I observed carefully, but then I realized it wasn't your burgeoning relationship that was destructive. It was your resistance to it. Both of you. You two ran away every time you drew close, latching onto one excuse or another, trying to find a reason to deny the fact that you are made for each other."

The spirit takes away Azula's words and thoughts. "What about you two?" she croaks, feeling like a jealous twit.

"I don't think there was time to figure out if Sokka and I were made for each other. There are a lot of people in this world, Princess. There's no reason to believe that a person can be compatible with only one," Yue says. "But I do know that you two are made for each other. Perhaps you could find love somewhere else."

"No," Azula shouts firmly. "I won't. I came here to die alongside him, spirit. You loved him too. Tell me if there's another like him."

Yue gives her another sad smile. "Of course there isn't. And when I met him, he was but an inkling of what he became when you did. If this is the case, if you cannot live without him, then I've come here to fix your mistakes."

"What do you mean?" Azula asks.

Yue is not listening to her. She leans, her face breaking the plane of the water, and she gives Sokka a kiss. Azula starts toward her, reaching a hand out, but Yue begins to fade, and the pool of water begins to glow. Azula has to cover her eyes as the light shining from below the water's surface is enough to rival the sun itself. When it dissipates, she has to pinch herself truly to see if she's dreaming, or if she's died and is seeing things in the Spirit World.

Sokka climbs out of the water, his hair white and long, spooling all over the sides of his face. He gasps for air. The knife is no longer buried in his chest.

Azula launches herself at him, tearing at his chest. There's no wound, no blemish, no sign of the deadly blade stroke that claimed his life. She presses a freezing cold ear to his chest, and hears the steady thump of his heart.

Shaking, she backs away, cupping his cheeks with her hands. Those sapphire eyes she knows so well gaze back at her, and she knows it's him. It's no trick, no hallucination, no evil spirit inhabiting his body. It's really him.

He gives her a shaky smile. "Hey. It's kinda chilly. Do you think you could start a fire?"

* * *

Katara looks at her with suspicion, but Azula knows it has weakened from the first days after her war.

After all, it's difficult to hate your sister-in-law to be when she rescued your brother from death and helped stitch his shattered chiefdom back into a whole.

Aang, on the other hand, seems to have embraced her wholeheartedly. She supposes it comes with the territory of being a merciful Avatar, believing that people can find balance, bring a change in their lives, become good people. Whatever his reasons are for being kind to her, she accepts them.

Zuko and Suki seem to have the hardest time of all, but Zuko understood when Azula explained the circumstances - everything from her arrival in the South Pole, to Sokka's murder at the hands of the now non-existent Ice River clans, to his resurrection at the hands of the Moon Spirit. She thinks that the story of Yue affected him, because he'd been there in Agna Qel'a when it happened. Suki, on the other hand, seemed to harbor some animosity, but she, too, was glad to see Sokka alive.

The moment they returned to Agna Ith'el, Sokka took her on a stage in front of his entire assembled tribe, and wrapped a choker with a blue flame pendant around her neck, marking her as his betrothed. Idly, she wonders what her title will be. Somehow, his people have come to the conclusion that Chief is not enough, not when one has taken a blade for his people and become born-again. They already call him the White Wolf, and a host of other titles near the point of worship. Some have taken to calling him the High King. She can do worse than being High Queen.

"Do I look fine?" she asks Katara, leaning back in her stool chair. Her usual bangs have been replaced by hair loops, in the Waterbender's own style.

Katara steps back and looks at her handiwork. "Yeah. You look... beautiful." She struggles to get out the compliment, and Azula smiles - not a false smile, but genuine, appreciative that her betrothed's sister seems to be making an effort.

"Thank you," Azula says. "Truth be told, I actually always admired your hair loops."

Katara now looks at her dumbfoundedly. "You're kidding."

"I am not," Azula says plainly. "Ty Lee tried to emulate it for me once, while we were traveling through the Earth Kingdom, pursuing you. It did not work - I don't think she possessed the requisite cultural knowledge." 

"It's something mothers pass down to their daughters in our tribe," Katara replies. "Mom started teaching me... Gran-Gran finished the job."

"I would like to pass it down to my own daughters," Azula says. "Do you think you could teach me?"

For the first time Katara looks at her with something completely other than suspicion. Her smile is genuine.

"Of course," the Waterbender says. "C'mon, let me finish applying this rouge. Sokka won't be able to keep his eyes off..."

* * *

Katara spoke truly. After their wedding festivities, when Sokka carries her to their chambers - _their chambers_ \- in the palace, his eyes are transfixed. He sets her on the bed and locks the door behind them, though from the shuffling of feet, Azula knows the womenfolk of his tribe are gathered outside. It's bit of a primitive custom, but then a primitive part of her wants all the women to know exactly whom she owns heart and soul.  
  
When he returns to her, his eyes are on her ruby-red lipstick, and she smiles in triumph.

Sokka's hair is still white, long after the Moon Spirit saved his life. They thought it might change back, but it didn't. Azula doesn't particularly mind. She likes the White Wolf moniker. It doesn't age him, because it is more pristine and snow white than grey hair like that of an elderly person. She runs her hands through his hair as he kneels by her feet on the edge of the bed, removing her shoes, and then her dress and robes. Underneath, for him and him only, she has on lacy undergarments of red, customary on a Fire Nation bride's first night after her marriage. This isn't her first night, of course, but it's their first as man and wife. The first of many, she hopes and prays.

He takes his time, undoing every tie slowly. He kisses her where he undoes one knot, licks her where he undoes another, worshipping the gift of herself she's made to him, as he unwraps her. It's torture and bliss at the same time, but she settles into it, learning to enjoy the process. He looks up at her, and something shifts.

"I love you," Sokka says.

It's the first time he's actually said those three words, even though it's obvious to her that he does and she loves him back. She's only called him my love, but those three words have never left her mouth either.

Before she can respond, he undoes her red lace thong and kisses the nook between her thigh and her crotch, causing her to shudder in pleasure. Goosebumps erupt all over her skin. "I've think I've loved you from the day you yanked me into your chambers in the Fire Nation palace," he says, before licking the side of her already soaked cunt once. She shudders yet again. "I don't know why I kept denying it to myself. I think I'm stupid." He licks again, this time right on her slit, his tongue snaking in and penetrating into her pussy. She groans, and her hands find his hair, digging into it. 

"You.... you are..." she breathes raggedly. "But so am I."

He licks her languidly, his whole intent focused on her. He carves all kinds of symbols into her folds and laps at her like she's the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. She's pretty sure he think so, anyway. When her pleasure rides over the peak and comes flying down the cliff, she screams his name out loud for the whole damn city to hear and looks at him. His head is between her thighs, but his eyes are peering up at her, and _Agni_ that sends a shiver down her spine.

"Good. Now we have our whole lives to be stupid together." She beckons him upwards, and he obeys, his body skimming over hers. The touch of their skin is electrifying to her, and to him, too, judging by his own goosebumps. 

Sokka traces an idle hand down her jaw as he kisses at her collarbone, before engulfing a pink and swollen puffy nipple in his mouth, causing her to whimper. She loops her arms around his head to draw him closer, as if to convey to him - _stop teasing me, you asshole_. He laughs and takes the hint, applying his attentions to her without reservation. As he worships her breasts, his fingers find her pussy and slip inside, first one, then two, until he's caressing and stroking a spot inside her that makes sparks fly in her mind. Without realizing it, she lights a fire with her hands, but he doesn't stop his attentions even then, as she hurries to put it it out. 

"Please don't electrocute me when you come, my love," he murmurs, as he continues his ministrations.

"Make me come again and I'll consider it, husband," she groans back. His fingers slip out of her and he pulls off the remainder of his clothes. She climbs on top of him, still dizzy from his fingers, and impales herself on his length rapidly, emitting a low whine as she does. "Fuck me, Sokka. Please fuck me," she begs.

Her husband - her lover - complies with his queen's commands. They work up a furious pace, not wild and out of control, but rapid, wanting, and deliriously quick. Every time her clit grinds against the scratchy skin of his crotch, she feels like fireworks are shooting off in each of her toes and fingertips. The pleasure build quickly and up and up until she crests once, and then twice, and then thrice. Sokka slams into her a few more times for good measure, and then he whispers in her ear. "Do you trust me?"

She nods mutely, unable to form words in the haze of satisfaction.

He gently places her face down on the bed, with her ass pointing up. She wonders what he's about to do when she suddenly feels him enter from behind, and she puts her hands on the bed and arches her back and she emits a low moan when he penetrates her fully. "Oh my fuck, Sokka," she breathes. His hands grip her bottom and her hips firmly, guiding her slowly back onto him, and he meets her halfway with a thrust of his own. They work into a steady beat, her bouncing against him and he stroking back into her. He rarely does this position with her, but it feels like something else. And she's glad he's done it because when his slamming becomes erratic, she knows he's close to his peak, and she's near enough too.

But just like that, he stops, groaning at the inordinate amount of self control it must have taken to stop then, and flips her around, possessing her mouth in the most possessive kiss he's ever given her. "I'm not gonna put a child in you in that position," he says, his eyes burning. "I want to look into your eyes when I do."

Oh, she's absolutely _fucked._ Every ounce of desire floating around in her body goes straight into her belly, settling low in her womb. He places her back on the bed and enters her. She balances her legs on his sides, wrapping around his bottom to take him deeper and deeper in when he fills her again, and he's kissing her and staring into her eyes as his thumps and thrusts become erratic yet again. "Where do you want me, love?" he pants into her ear.  
  
"Agni, in me, Sokka, please," she demands, begs, pleads. "Fill me up tonight, every night."

"As you command, Princess," he grunts, and then with one final slam, they come together, and she tightens her legs around him, making him put every drop of seed inside her.

They collapse side by side, gasping for air, and when he can finally breathe, Sokka pulls her in close and pulls the cover over them. He leans up and roars at the door. "You can go now!"

There's giggling on the other side, and the pitter patter of feet, as the womenfolk depart, knowing the marriage has been consummated.

"Were they listening the whole time?" Azula says, only a little mortified.

"They'll hear much louder if we're going to live here together," Sokka grumbles. "This might be the first time, but it sure as hell won't be the last." 

Azula giggles and lets sleep come visit her. But her nights have been terrible, and she's often filled with nightmares of the Red Wedding, of Sokka's lifeless body, lifeless eyes, and dragging him to the spirit pool. She remembers the horrid emptiness she felt that miserable day. When she wakes, panting, sweating, it's still the middle of the night. She turns around in a blind panic, fearing Sokka won't be there, that she's hallucinated everything that's happened after he died, but he's there, staring at her, unblinking. As is his way, his hand is in her hair, playing with it lovingly.  
  
"Fuck, I'm sorry, Sokka," she groans. "Did I wake you?"

He shakes his head. "No. I couldn't sleep anyway."

"Nightmares too?"

"No," he says. "I just didn't dare to make the same mistake I've made every single time I've been with you."

When she falls back asleep, she dreams of happier things.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a note if you liked it :)


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